


when I see you again (it will be too soon)

by hikari (sincerelysamedt)



Category: Haikyuu!!, ハイパープロジェクション演劇「ハイキュー!!」| Hyper Projection Play "Haikyuu!!" RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Future Fic, Misunderstandings, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Photographer Akaashi Keiji, Post-Canon, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 17:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19214029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelysamedt/pseuds/hikari
Summary: Ten years after highschool, Bokuto Koutarou walks on site for another routine photoshoot and sees Akaashi Keiji again.Or conversely, ten years after highschool, Bokuto has many accomplishments and several regrets.





	when I see you again (it will be too soon)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, fam.  
> So, this is my overarching angst project.  
> I hope you like it.  
> We'll add shit as we go along.

When Koutarou arrives back in his apartment, it's late. Everything aches but he's reluctant to step into the shower or even change his clothes.

His shirt collar smells like citrus, some kind of fresh adult cologne. It's obscenely potent, as if he had been rubbed down with limes and covered in crushed mint leaves. He resists the urge to drag it up towards his face and breathe in deep while the scent still lingers.

Somewhere in Tokyo, Akaashi Keiji is walking under streetlights smelling like an orchard and a cocktail. He had refused the invitation to come over, stay the night, catch up. It's been so long.

Koutarou drops onto the living room couch face-first, groaning into the upholstery.

He keeps on fisting the hem of his shirt, straining the fabric over his knuckles in a frustrated attempt to divert his attention somewhere, anywhere else. It wouldn't do for him to run into the night trying to track down a boy he'd left behind years ago by his scent alone like a frantic animal.

It's a tempting thought, though.

Koutarou flops on his back and stares blankly at the pristine ceiling.

He should change if he isn't going to wash up. He should get some sleep.

He shouldn't be thinking of the jostling train rushing across the city, the space growing smaller and smaller as more people file into the carriage, Akaashi's back against his chest, his hair under Koutarou's chin, his cologne on Koutarou's shirt collar, and the shaking train, the dwindling space. The little exhale of laughter, almost bewildered and a little apologetic as he turned Koutarou down, getting off at his stop sixteen stations away from Koutarou's in the opposite direction, waving at him through dirty smudged windows.

What would have happened if he had wound an arm around Akaashi's waist when he tried to pull away as people began to alight at their stops.

If he had leaned his head over Akaashi's, chuckled into his temple, said it was fine.

If he had thumbed over Akaashi's hip bones through his shirt, tightened his hold when the train rocked, asked if this was okay.

If he just didn't let go.

Koutarou sighs, sits up, and rubs his face in his hands.

* * *

Ten years after highschool, Bokuto Koutarou walks on site for another routine photoshoot and sees Akaashi Keiji again.

Ten years after highschool, his underclassman is still simultaneously quiet and snarky, while having not an ounce of respect for him. He still wears strange though tastefully strange clothing that hides his weirdness in plain sight. He is also still terribly, dreadfully pretty.

He is also the photographer.

And he is also accompanied by an adorable, precocious little girl, whom he introduced as his daughter. Her name is Hikari, and never before had Koutarou felt such a rush of affection and devastation as he did when he looked at the girl and first saw his setter's eyes.

No one had eyes like his setter. Koutarou had been from Europe to South America and he checked.

"Oh, so he's Bo-jii, Otou-chan?" Little Hikari, with her father's eyes and her father's dark swooping curls embodying Koutarou's every heartache, asked.

Akaashi looked up from his prep set-up, directing the world around him as he fell apart inside. Just like highschool.

"Yes, he is." Akaashi answered the child, his child, scooping the girl into his arms and kissing her nose.

She giggled.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Bo-jii!" Hikari smiled in her father's arms.

It wasn't a smile he had ever seen on his setter.

Maybe it was the one thing Akaashi Hikari inherited from her mother.


End file.
